Chapter 8
EIGHT
Remy
I've had some crappy ideas in my life.
At the end of eighth grade, a buddy and I hacked into the school computer and sent every student, teacher, and staff member a notice of a "mandatory buttock check.
" Obviously a bad idea. (Fortunately, Ma was already planning on homeschooling me the following year because of my fishing tournaments, but Dad didn't find it as funny as I did).
Signing up for the annual python hunt in the Everglades to eradicate the non-native species and hunting them at night: bad idea. Dangerous as all get-out because of the gators. Didn't even see one invasive snake, but thought I was going to lose an arm to a gator around three in the morning.
Signing up to be Leilani's mentor might top them all.
I knew I'd be attracted to her, but I didn't know how much. Somehow, even though I've seen her in various outfits — mermaid, tight business skirt — her baggy jeans, a T-shirt with a cartoon fox on the front, and her little brown sandals are driving me wild. Like to the point of distraction.
Maybe it's the glasses and ponytail. Or the way she eats her pizza, tearing little bits of the crust off and munching thoughtfully.
"I'm sorry, what were you going to show me?" I keep asking her to repeat herself, so she probably thinks I'm hard of hearing or slow. Really, I'm just captivated by how adorable she is. How I'd like to hug her tight. "Apologies. I'm a bit distracted."
She glances at me, confused.
"It's been a long day," I offer.
She frowns a little. "I was going to show you my business plan. Aren't you supposed to look it over and tell me what you think? Also, tell me about your business plan and how you started? That's what the contest guidelines said we should do. I spent the afternoon going over everything."
I clear my throat. Of course, I haven't read the contest guidelines at all. Guess I'll have to do that later tonight. "Right. Yes. Let me look at it."
She hands me a surprisingly thick folder and I leaf through it. She has everything from a mission statement to something labeled a "SWOT Analysis Worksheet."
"Wow, you're thorough. I'm impressed. I didn't have anything half this organized when I opened my business."
"You didn't? Why not?" She stacks the notebooks together. There's a ton of notebooks, all different sizes and colors, spread out on the bar.
I shrug. "I was pretty lucky. Well, let's be honest. Privileged. My parents were — are — uh, comfortable. And I'd won a lot of fishing tournaments from the time I was a teen. I guess you could say that I was a fishing prodigy."
I glance over. Goodness, her smile is achingly sweet and sexy at the same time. "Oh?"
"I competed on the pro circuit for a while, but when I turned twenty-five, felt like I wanted to stop traveling.
I love it here in Cypress Grove. So, my dad co-signed for the boat, plus a smaller pontoon for tour groups.
I've paid both off, thankfully. Now people come from all over to fish with me on the Starlight River.
My business is a little non-traditional. I guess that's the short answer."
She nods. "Understandable. What kind of fishing?"
"Bass mostly. Got into it when I came back from chasing tarpon on the coast. I was a fly angler before.
Outside Magazine profiled me after I won the tournament at Boca Grand when I was twenty-three.
Pivoted to freshwater when I moved home.
Tarpon means travel, and I was done with that.
Bass keeps me close. I do charters, tour groups, weddings, fishing lessons for kids, pretty much whatever's on the water.
" A pause. "You know what bass are, right? "
Her eyes roll around in their sockets. "I'm pretty familiar with fish, yes. I've been swimming in the Gulf and in Florida's springs probably as long as you've been fishing. I'm thirty years old."
I chuckle. "Thought so. Stupid question, my bad. Ah, an older woman."
Her eyes narrow. "How old are you?"
"Twenty-nine."
She presses her hand to her chest. "You had me worried there for a minute."
I chuckle and take a sip of my soda.
"So, what's your secret to getting the fish to bite?"
Grinning, I lean in. "You have to show the fly to the fish."
She frowns. "Okay..."
"Without the fish actually seeing it."
Her expression relaxes into a smile. "Oh, is this like a Zen riddle?"
"Exactly. What about you? Why did you decide to do this?" I wave my hand around the bar, which smells like the sawdust of two-by-fours.
"I've been thinking about this idea for a long time. Since I was a kid."
I shut the folder. "Can I take this with me? I'd like time to read it." And look up all the business terms online. I'm a fisherman, not a businessman. Maybe Max can help with some of this.
"Sure, that's a copy I made for you."
She's frighteningly prepared, and I'm not. "Tell me about how you got the idea for this."
She turns in her bar stool to face me full on. I force myself to focus on her face. Just her face.
"Well, my father ran a Greek restaurant in Hernando County, and I grew up watching him.
I became a waitress at sixteen, but my true love was swimming.
I was on the swim team, and when I turned twenty, I became a Weeki Wachee mermaid.
I got a two-year business degree, hoping I could take over my father's restaurant someday.
But that didn't happen." Her shoulders droop.
"How come?"
"My father passed and the restaurant closed."
"I'm sorry." I reach to squeeze her arm but am not sure I should. Instead, I settle for an awkward, brief pat.
"Thanks. I guess things all worked out because I'm here."
"How did you get from there to here, though? It's a few hours away, and from the looks of things, you were established as a mermaid up there. From what I saw online, anyway."
A little smile creeps onto her face. She knows I've been checking her out online.
"I loved being a mermaid. But I was getting older.
Mermaids are usually in their twenties. And some other things happened.
Then I inherited some money when my aunt died and thought this would be as good a place as any to start over. "
I sense that she's holding back part of her story. "Wouldn't it have been better to open a bar up there, especially with all the tourists going to the park for the mermaid shows?"
She rubs her lips together. "I felt like the mermaid scene was saturated up there. And I wanted to get away for personal reasons."
Oh, now we're getting somewhere. "A guy, I assume."
She straightens her spine and looks over my shoulder. "Yes."
"You break his heart?" From the little I know about her, I imagine she's broken a lot of hearts.
My grin fades when I see her face fall into seriousness.
"No." Her voice is barely audible, and she pauses. "I might as well be honest. I was in a really controlling relationship. I wasn't going to tell you, but I suppose we'll be getting to know each other pretty well over these next few weeks. And I have nothing to hide."
My mouth parts, and while I'm shocked into silence, my insides roil with white-hot anger — and shame for pushing the issue. Someone made Leilani feel small? How? Who? And, where does he live?
"Of course you have nothing to hide. That's nothing to be ashamed of." My voice is gravelly despite my best effort to keep it even-toned. "I'm sorry. Really sorry. You're in a safe place now. Right?"
Please, please let her say yes.
She nods. "I made a clean break four months ago. He didn't hit me. But he wore me down, you know? Like he was taking small pieces of me, one at a time."
My breaths are coming in shallow, sharp gulps.
She continues speaking. "I won’t get into too much detail. He took my paycheck. He made my dreams sound stupid. My financial situation didn't allow me to leave easily. When I inherited the money, I escaped."
"Thank God you did." It's only now that I realize my hands are clenched into fists.
"He hasn't come after me. Hasn't even emailed. So that's a positive."
I flex my fingers. "Listen, if you ever need help, or even just want to talk, I want you to call me. My family and I know everyone in this town. Every cop, every lawyer. I also know some less savory characters — shrimp boat captains, a couple of bikers. Anything you need, I'm here."
Oh heck, did I just say the wrong thing? Her eyes look watery.
"Thank you," she whispers, blinking rapidly. "That means a lot. And it's why I was a little skittish about you. I've only had one real relationship. Geez, I don't know why I'm telling you all this. Sorry."
She twists in her seat so she's facing the bar and begins fiddling with a stray piece of pepperoni on her plate.
I place a hand on her back. Every cell in my body longs to pull her close and hold her. "Hey. Don't apologize."
A little smile plays on her face. "When I left my ex, I made a promise to myself that in the future, I'd only be with men who asked for my consent."
"Check," I say, grinning.
She laughs, and I'm glad we're back to flirting. Relieved that I can make her happy, even a little.
"And men who communicate their desires fully."
"Check again. What else?"
"Well, I made a list. I'm actually a hardcore list maker."
I bust out laughing and take my hand off her back. "You made a list of what you want in a man?"
"Several. Then I decided I didn't want a relationship. Not now."
"Let's go over this list. I want to hear it."
A giggle slips from her mouth and she reaches for a blue notebook. "Only be with men who respect your boundaries."
"Good one. I agree with that."
"Don't be with men who are emotionally manipulative."
Did taking Tate's winning ticket from him at the Chamber meeting fall into this? I nod seriously, thinking about how I will mess up any man who is emotionally abusive to her. "What else?"
"Only be with men who care about your safety."
My heart splinters at her words. "The idea that someone would touch you and not care about your safety is unthinkable. You deserve to be worshipped, Leilani."
She turns to me, her giant, blue eyes shining. "I knew there was a reason why I wanted to be friends with you. You're one of those guys who gets it. I'm glad I met you."
"Friends. Exactly." A strange feeling blooms in my stomach. Since I'm a confirmed bachelor, why are her words affecting me so much? It's probably because of what she revealed about her ex. That's it. The thought of a man harming her makes me ill. There's nothing lower than a guy who hurts women.
Let's hope her ex doesn't get it in his brain to come after her in Cypress Grove.
Because she's got me in her life now, and that dude will never touch her again. Never look at her, either. Because if he comes within a mile of her, he's going to have me to deal with. I'll protect her, no matter what.
That's what friends are for, right?